Prey
by Marauder-chan
Summary: Jack always saw Ralph as a rival. But as he watched the boy he considered a threat trembling beneath his own gaze, he realized that Ralph didn't quite share his sentiments.


**I just read Lord of the Flies at school, and absolutely loved it. The characterization, the symbolism, the foreshadowing; it all appealed to my inner author. So I decided to write something for it. This is from Jack's point of view, and I tried to keep it as in character as I could. Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

* * *

Jack had seen Ralph as a rival.

All the other boys, they looked up to him as a leader. When there was a decision to be made, a problem to be solved, they always turned to Ralph.

Ralph, Ralph, Ralph. It was always Ralph. It got on Jack's nerves. _He_ was the leader, wasn't he? He had always been the one to order around his choir boys. Jack was the one in charge.

But all that changed when they got stuck on that island. Then Ralph appeared, with his annoyingly good looks and that silly little conch. Oh, he was just a natural born leader, wasn't he? _"We need to make a fire. Why isn't anyone helping me with the shelters? The fire! You have to keep the fire going! Don't you guys _want_ to be rescued?"_

Jack's only solace was being in charge of his hunters. When they were hunting, he was the head honcho. Not the whiny little blond with a shell as his sign of power. Him, Jack Merridew.

So he engulfed himself in it. He went hunting more and more, craving it whenever he wasn't. It may have been for the feeling of leading at first, but over time, it became more than that. The exhilaration, the blood, the satisfaction he felt when looking at his prey's dead corpse.

Prey. He didn't know when he started mentally using that word when referring to the pigs he hunted. It had an animalistic feel to it, like he was losing his human side. And the worst part was, he really could care less.

Jack was becoming an animal. He couldn't see it himself, but it was happening. He painted a mask on his face, hiding the boy he used to be, choir boy and Englishman. That side of him was gone. Now he was a hunter, a chief, with his own tribe.

But Ralph got in his way. He constantly protested, insisting that they _keep up the fire! We have to keep it up!_ It was so frustrating! Couldn't Ralph see that he was losing support? Most everyone on his side, they all abandoned him to join Jack's tribe now. Piggy and Simon were dead. Couldn't he see he was done?

And yet, Jack couldn't completely convince _himself_. Whenever he saw Ralph, all he could see was the strong leader standing in front of everyone, staring down at the boys like he owned them. He was still a threat to Jack. He had to be eliminated.

Jack saw Ralph as an enemy. Even when they were chasing him through the forest, with everyone on Jack's side and none on Ralph's; even as he once again lost himself to the animal inside of him, he half expected Ralph to stop them all with some huge inspirational speech, causing everyone to turn on Jack and attack him instead. He was the tiger hunting the lion, desperate to take over his status as king. Desperate to claim Ralph's head as he had the pig's; show his superiority.

Until they ran into the metaphorical dragon.

Jack knew he had lost when he saw the adults. He knew it as the man started to question them, and Ralph once again declared himself leader. He knew it as the boys around him broke down into tears.

Jack was a hunter, but even he couldn't last against a full grown man.

* * *

On the ship, Jack was strangely calm as he thought things over to himself. This wasn't over, he decided. He wouldn't let Ralph completely usurp him. Even if they weren't on the island and had adults to control them, he wouldn't _(couldn't)_ lose the power he had gained.

So he made his way to Ralph's room. The lucky git had got his own room. Because he was leader? Jack assumed this was the case. He hesitated at the door, almost frightened to go in, before he realized himself. _What are you doing, hesitating like this? He can't do anything to you; there are adult's on this ship! Besides, you have your hunters on your side. _

_(Fat lot of good they've been since we got rescued, though. Hunters, my arse; they're just a bunch of sniveling cowards!)_

Ignoring this last thought, Jack steeled himself and walked into the room, holdin his head up high as if he had no doubts in himself.

The quarters were cramped, and Jack noticed that there was barely enough room for both him and the bed. Curled up on said bed was Ralph himself, his eyes closed tightly and hands clenched into fists.

Jack didn't know if Ralph hadn't noticed him or was just ignoring him, but neither option made him happy. "... Ralph," he said after a moment's pause, his voice laced with unspoken threats.

Ralph's eyes shot open with a start, and he shot his head towards Jack. He stared at him.

Jack _was_ going to threaten the boy. He had decided all that beforehand. He would put Ralph in his place, keep him from becoming cocky, show him that Jack could kill him in an instant if he stepped out of line. He would _make sure_ Ralph knew this.

However, watching the boy he considered a threat _trembling under his own gaze_, he realized that he didn't need to tell him; Ralph already knew.

Jack had always seen Ralph as a rival. But the shaking child before him wasn't looking at him like a rival. Had he _ever_ been a rival to Ralph? Jack was starting to have his doubts. Because right now, Ralph was staring at him like Jack was the predator, and he was the prey.

Predator. It was such an animalistic word.

Jack suddenly got flashes of his time on the island. Of hunting pigs, and hearing their squealing pleas fade off into nothingness. Of bludgeoning an innocent boy to his death and thinking nothing of it afterwards. Of chasing their leader, who never really was a leader at all, just a boy forced into a role only he could keep up, through the forest with a stick sharpened on both ends, planning to stick his _decapitated head_ on there. Of a pig's skull on a stick, grinning at him with empty eye sockets, showing him just what Jack Merridew had become.

And for the first time, Jack didn't feel like a hunter, or a chief. He felt like a monster.


End file.
